


Just Business

by Catsitta



Series: Just Business [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A hint of angst snuck in, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Bara Sans (Undertale), Complicated Relationships, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, I wanted this to be a romantic comedy, M/M, Mobfell Sans (Undertale), Power Imbalance, Red is a Mobster, Red is bara, Romance, Sans is a Mess (Undertale), Sans is smol, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Red, kustard - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: It’s all about the money. Sans needs it. Red’s got it. It’s just good business.Mob Kustard | Slowburn | Romance
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Just Business [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079678
Comments: 25
Kudos: 150





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

> Midnight brain decided it really wanted to write this. Daytime brain put on some finishing touches.

“had a nice night, dollface. yer enjoy the party?”

Sans hummed a wordless affirmation, lids drooping over sleep-hazed sockets. After a full week of work plus overtime, he was running on fumes, but it was worth it. Papyrus would be able to stay in his private school another semester and they were a little bit closer to affording that engineering camp he wanted to attend over the summer. His little brother deserved the world and by the stars, Sans would give it to him however he could, even if it meant working three jobs and cutting coupons and wearing holes in the slippers he’d already taped together twice. Even if it meant selling his soul to the devil for extra G on the weekends...Not that it hurt that the devil in question was easy on the eyes and had a heavy hand when it came to tipping.

He peered up at the tall, flamboyantly dressed skeleton he walked arm-in-arm with towards the awaiting car. Red flashed a roguish grin, gold tooth gleaming at the corner of his devilish smile. Sans leaned tiredly against his frame, uncaring if he wrinkled either of their suits. He didn’t pay for them or the dry cleaning bill. Not that he’d ever buy a white suit even if he was stupid rich. Old money and their dress codes, he’d never understand it. While Red usually looked dark and dapper in black, tonight there was not hint of it, even his wide-brimmed fedora was white, the only pops of color being his signature ruby tie, a ribbon on his hat and the gemstones glittering on his phalanges. Sans managed to convince him that the feathered cape with the matching ruby lining was a bit...garish, even if it matched. Sans himself was almost drab in comparison with his blue bowtie, though given how Red talked all night, one would think he was an angel from heaven itself.

Beautiful. Divine. Perfect. 

Red lavished praise upon him like he did money. As much as he wanted to protest any kind of beauty—an average schulb in a nice suit was still an average schulb—Sans kept his trap shut. He was making good money wearing whatever Red gave him and hanging off his arm. He rarely had to talk to anyone but Red and he made sure he smiled extra nice for the camera. Sure, he heard what people said about him at the fancy parties—when you don’t talk much, you end up doing a lot of listening—but it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. Only Papyrus mattered. Which meant Red mattered in that offhand way that any generous employer mattered.

It was all about the money. Red had it. Sans needed it. In the end, this whole arrangement just made good business sense. 

“practically fallin’ asleep on yer feet, aintcher?” Red chuckled, arm wrapping around Sans’ shoulders with familiarity. “don’t think i didn’t see yer noddin’ off during that last round of cocktails. figured it was time to vamoose before yer ended up catchin’ zs there by the chocolate fountain.”

“heh. my hero,” Sans quipped with a shrug. “what can i say, i’mma real lazybones. sleep’s m’favorite sport and i can do it allllllll night long.”

Ring-laden phalanges climbed Sans’ shoulder and his voice dropped low, “i can think of a better way to spend a whole night.”

“down boy. you know the rules.”

Red sighed like the drama queen he was, “right, right. yer not a prostitute. can’t buy my way into yer pants any time i like. blah, blah.”

“poor baby.”

“if yer would jus’ quit that day job of yers…”

Sans snorted and patted his arm, “now why would i do that? the memories i would be leaving behind. it’s where we met, after all.”

“yeah, and i know i pay yer plenty ‘nough for yer time that stayin’ at that bar shouldn’t be needed.” 

”what can i say. customer service is my callin’ and grillbyz keeps ketchup on tap for me. it’s a real sweet gig. that and inner city rent is real pricy, bud, and who’s sayin’ some cute thing won’t watch your eye next week? then i’d be out of a job with bills to pay.”

A chuckle rumbled through his companion as a chauffeur opened a door for them, and he guided Sans to sit down first. It was a sleek black car with windows tinted too dark to be legal. Which was hardly surprising given Red’s occupation. Not that anyone ever said it out loud, but the monster mafia was Ebott’s worst kept secret, and Red was quite obviously a member. Oh, sure, he could cover his tracks fine enough with account books and talk of business, but regular monsters didn’t keep concealed firearms under their vests, since their kind were generally pacifists by nature. And they certainly didn’t have the kind of LV Red carried.

Fortunately for them both, Red didn’t know he could see his EXP, nor was Sans about to blab. Discretion and common sense kept him alive and his brother taken care of. It had been awkward at first, fighting down the urge to flinch each time Red came to Grillby’s for a ‘meeting’, but he got used to ignoring the discomfort, especially when he figured out the skeleton liked puns and tipped an extra hundred if Sans could make him laugh while serving as his waiter.

Red slid into the leather seat beside him and soon they were ensconced in comfortable darkness, a roaming hand happily finding purchase on Sans’ leg. It didn’t take much coaxing for Sans to tilt his skull for a long, lazy kiss. His companion did all the work, all too eager to take the lead in all their activities. Sure, there was a time or two when Red pressed for more initiative on Sans’ part, especially on those occasions that ending up in bed together was both convenient and lucrative. It was easy to let Red take what he wanted—it always felt like toeing a line to push further. So to compensate he always sassed the other skeleton, told him it would cost him extra if he wanted to be tied to the headboard or whatever other shenanigans Red thought of. 

He paid. He always paid. Money to him was like water to the ocean. However, he always seemed a little...disappointed by the upcharge. So he didn’t ask often. Even when Sans could tell he wanted to change things up. Red wasn’t oblivious. Not totally. He probably noticed Sans’ unease in those moments, even if he could afford a ‘yes’. 

“y’know, if it’s commitment yer want, i’d be happy to make a new contract wit yer,” Red murmured as he pulled away, crimson eyelights gleaming like burning cigarettes. Sans shivered. “there’s a nice lil condo fer sale ‘cross the street from my office. could set yer up all nice and rent free.” Sans made to speak but Red slid a hand dangerously close to his pelvis and stars that man knew exactly how to touch him. “course i wouldn’t mind movin’ yer right into my house, yer’d have a whole suite to yerself, kitchen an’ ever’thin’. and on top o’ all dat, i’d set’cha up on a salary. still tip yer fer parties and the like, but yer wouldn’t need to worry ‘bout nuthin’ at all.”

“the champagne’s gone to your head,” Sans drawled, sweat beading down his skull. “commitment doesn’t suit you. doesn’t suit either of us.”

“naw? dollface, yer the only one i’ve taken to paint the town fer the past year. there aint nobody else i got eyes fer,” Red toyed with the buttons of Sans’ slacks. “an’ i know yer aint got a mate or a lover back home.” Of course he knew. Red was the possessive sort. Sans would have been an idiot to try romancing anyone while Red paid him for what little free time he possessed. 

“we had this talk before, bud.”

Red skimmed his teeth along Sans’ neck, “oh yes. but that was before a certain someone wanted to go to engineering camp.” 

Sans froze, whole body unresponsive and stiff. With a swallow he forced himself to relax, “i dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“sure ya don’t. but if yer ever change yer mind ‘bout ditching the day job...i gotta lil bro that could use a pal. he’s a lil shithead, but he’s got a knack fer puzzles and a cat he carries wit him everywhere.”

Quiet fell between them, but hands didn’t stop roaming. Sans drowned out the terror—that Red knew about Papyrus—with pleasure. It was a mistake to carry on with the monster this long. Of course somebody like Red would get curious about why Sans wasn’t ready to leave a dead end job (or three) to spend his days as a well-pampered mistress. He had the power and connections to learn anything about anyone and Sans, in his greed, his desire to give Papyrus everything he couldn’t before, put them both in the crosshairs. 

When they pulled up to Sans’ apartment complex—rather than the usual drop off point—it cemented that Red knew everything. 

“think about it?” he murmured. 

Sans nodded. That brought a thousand watt smile to the devil’s face. Angel above, he looked almost boyish with giddy delight. It was just business. It was unwise to let it become anything else. But as he climbed out of the car with a promise to send him the dry cleaning bill for the suit, Sans let his gaze linger on the always present stats he could never banish from his vision. 

**Red**  
LV 9  
WEAPON: Handgun  
ARMOR: Bulletproof Vest

_*He’s in love with you_

**Author's Note:**

> -FIN-


End file.
